


Halfway Home: The Wrong Way Part 2

by Anathema_Cat



Series: The Wrong Way [3]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, American Football, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Kissing, M/M, Off-screen Relationship(s), Swearing, Unrelated Fíli and Kíli
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 05:01:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11502288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anathema_Cat/pseuds/Anathema_Cat
Summary: “Is it strange that I feel this way, after all that?”Fili wanted to say ‘of course not,’ which wasn't right, or ‘what way?’, which would've been self-serving. He could see it on Kili’s face. It ached.“I kept drifting the wrong way, and you kept pulling me back,” Fili said instead. “There’s something to that.”Kili hadn’t been able to pull Fili onto the right path, but he had anchored him, even if far from the shore. Fili slipped the anchor, turned his back on his best friend. It was time to come home. He just needed to find the right way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Khafushun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khafushun/gifts), [Taupefox59](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taupefox59/gifts).



> This will make most sense if it is read after [The Wrong Way](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5389424/chapters/12448388) and [The Wrong Way: Interlude](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6658165). I’d be grateful if you check them out; they’re not super long. :)
> 
> So much gratitude to taupefox59 for the helpful beta read. Also, thank you to khafushun and taupefox59 for inspiring me in different ways to finish this story. That was done for FiKi Week 2017 “inspired by music” - primary inspiration from TV on the Radio, The National, Tindersticks, and Interpol. References to “football” are to American football.

"What are you thinking?" 

_Stupid question._ Fili’s left hand slowly twirled spaghetti on a fork, his chin resting on his other hand, eyes following colorful fish pace across an ostentatious floor-to-ceiling tank. His mind followed one small school of spotted brown fish. At first glance, they appeared dull, a commonplace contrast to the rainbows darting around them. But as Fili watched, their depth unfolded, shimmering gold scales framing deep spots of shining chestnut, iridescent fins fluttering in a symphony of movement. Fili didn’t compare the fish to anything outside the tank, didn't bother acknowledging metaphors, analogies, parallels, whatever the proper term was, didn't drift off to the time he and his college friends went to the aquarium at the zoo, and -

“Hey there, penny for your thoughts.”

Were the fish talking to him? He slowly pulled his thoughts back to the present, his eyes finally drifted in the direction of the voice, and…

_Oh, right._

Fili sat up and ran his idle hand through his short hair. “I’m sorry,” he said to the bright green eyes across the table from him. “Fish distracted me.”

“You seemed lost in thought.”

Fili shrugged. He figured he should say something, but finally took another bite of overpriced pasta instead.

“What were you thinking about?”

_Are you fucking serious, man? I’d have told you if I wanted to._ “Nothing.”

“Uh huh.”

Fili was horny and his date was attractive, yet he thought even his dick would wilt from boredom and irritation. The hot, tall blond he’d met at a bar turned out to be pompous and superficial, didn't share any of Fili’s interests, and insisted on talking about his own in great detail. He wondered whether this was worth it for a fuck after all.

“Come on, tell me.”

Fili sighed and studied the pretty eyes. Then he shrugged internally; it wasn't like he was looking for a life partner. “I'm just wondering what you're like in bed.”

 

* * *

 

Fili meandered down the bright, wide hallway from the network studio to its closest break room, nodding at passing colleagues. He was a darling of the sports network, showered with accolades. Smart yet relatable, an everyday joe who just happened to be talented and attractive. Easy on the eyes, pleasing to the ears, with unbeatable credentials. His bosses knew they had hit the jackpot with this combination, and Fili could do no wrong, the one unexcused absence overlooked as if it never occurred.

The irony, Fili smiled blankly to himself as he settled into a cushy chair in the TV-lined room, was that he was gripping his mask more tightly than ever, a happy idiot smiling mildly at life. Fili’s position had always required the facade of good-natured, single-minded knowledge, but it had been a constant struggle to keep the mask steady on the days leading up to that first meeting with Kili after years of no contact. And now the seed of hope made the mask even more slippery.

He loosened his tie and tilted his head back, eyes closed, hands fisted in his lap. Anticipation, longing, impatience, despair. If he allowed it, the only space in his mind right now would be for Kili, dreams for their future, certainty that they had no future, fear he had ruined Kili’s future.

Fili’s nerves were shot, stomach, jaw, head, shoulders, all unrelentingly tense. Had their nascent relationship survived the airport discussion? Kili was feral, his ready laugh submerged by loss, cautious and skittish. Fili longed to instill trust and calm with his hands, but he didn’t even know whether he’d see Kili again. Terse texts, no calls; no word yet on whether a second date was in the cards.

Fili had to fight that feeling of so long ago, of wanting Kili so badly it physically hurt, keep it locked inside. Years and trauma had blurred the hole in Fili’s life so it was less Kili-shaped, but now it was solidifying again. 

God, he needed to touch Kili.

He was a teenager shutting out the entire world in hopes of one call, one text from the only person who mattered in that moment. He hated feeling so helpless. He cracked open an eye to check for a message on his phone - which hadn't buzzed. _Come on, Kili, please._

His employers loved him more than ever.

 

* * *

 

The soft breath of the AC touched his face but did nothing to soothe the heat and the sweat and the ache. And the ache wasn't enough. Fili had found no reliable way to cut through his impotent rage at his mistakes, and inability to correct them now, other than pain. 

So, flat on his back on the bench press, he breathed in strength and used his anger to lift the bar. He huffed and strained and lifted the damned thing too many fucking times, and still he just ached. Fili set the bar on the rack with a dull clank and stared at the pipes trailing the open ceiling while his breath slowed. He slowly sat up and took in the no-frills weight room, eyes settling on the squat rack. 

He wiped off the bench, racked his plates and then headed toward it, past a couple others he knew to be former professional athletes, those like himself who left glamour behind for stark, blue-collar efficiency. Fili tried to focus on the weight, the cool iron, as he loaded plates on the bar. 

Fili felt even worse now that, after years with no contact, he had experienced the brief text contact with Kili and been rejected. _Quite fairly and understandably rejected_ , his reasonable mind whispered, with a nice stab of pain for his gut. It had been more than a month since Kili’s final message. That he was with someone else, that Fili was too late. Fili still felt sick. He adjusted his headphones and switched to an angrier song.

Fili’s thoughts swirled as he set his feet and settled his shoulders under the bar - stupid fucking thoughts like how he had missed they were destined for each other when they had the exact same fucking name. As if that meant anything. A grunt and his legs straightened.

Who was that person who had abandoned Kili without a word? 

A breath and he controlled the bar’s descent with slowly bending knees. As if that meant a benevolent force had offered Kili to him as the beacon to a life worth living. He didn't believe it but enjoyed tormenting himself with the fact that he had rejected it. Sharp inhale and a yell with the exhale at the sharp pain in his bad leg on the way up.

Why did he have to live with that person’s mistakes?

An ironic smile on the way down. Melodramatic thoughts like Kili was the only one he ever loved. Exaggerated thoughts about destroying Kili’s life, when it had only been a part of it. 

What point had mistakes that can't be rectified?

Up, and now the ache at the back of his head pushed forward. Unfair thoughts about Kili letting him go, when Fili could not do the same, And down, and _here comes the pain,_ and now, finally, it was just noise and sweat and breath and pain. Fili shook his head as a bead of sweat stung his eye, and he grunted and pushed through his reps until he could let the bar go with a clang and wait for the pounding in his head to slow along with his breathing. 

Empty.

But his head. His head. His head. Beating with the song. Eyes barely able to focus, he tore out his earbuds as he sunk into a crouch. Tears pricked his eyes and that shit was not happening, so he forced himself up and away. Leaning against the cold concrete wall, he sucked down some water before pushing his body through cleaning up the equipment.

 

* * *

 

“You just walked away.”

Fili looked down, and he did that too much lately. Fuck that. He forced his head up, but he couldn’t look at Kili. Not yet. He was afraid. 

God damn it, he was a fucking badass, with more willpower than a fucking Buddhist monk, yet fear had still dominated so much of his adult life. And he was afraid now. He’d gone to war in a hostile desert, finally come out of the closet - in the most public way possible - faced almost certain rejection from Kili, stayed successfully employed while he felt dead inside, and remained still while Kili sat on top of him shirtless and beautiful, so close and still unattainable. 

Would this work with Kili? Could Fili ensure that he hadn’t just ruined Kili’s life a second time to satisfy his own desire? Could he spit out a few fucking words about the past?

“I'm afraid,” Fili muttered.

“Yeah?” Kili said, unsympathetic.

“Yeah,” Fili admitted, staring out the grimy window as he slouched across from Kili in a dark wood booth. So many people walking back and forth as the sun set, with dogs, briefcases, bikes, messenger bags, scooters, strollers, a blur of activity that his eyes saw but his mind didn’t register. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t open barely healed wounds. No. He wasn’t reliving that.

“Fili?”

Fili glanced at Kili’s face, drawn in anger and pain, hope and wariness. He still had dark circles under the amazing brown eyes. Fili couldn't will the circles away so he looked away. “You’re the only one I ever loved,” Fili whispered.

“Fuck off,” Kili hissed.

Fili’s eyes snapped to Kili’s. Yes, it had been a stupid thing say. He shook his head, but kept his eyes on Kili.

Kili lost his patience, temper flaring. “You turned your back on me, on your best friend - your best fucking friend, not lover, not boyfriend - friend. You looked at me, Fili. And turned and walked away. Without a word. 

“Talk. Now. Or I am gone.”

The tone more than the words bolstered Fili’s backbone, and his back straightened almost of its own accord. Kili didn’t want to speak like that. Fili took a deep breath. He straightened and leaned back against the hard back of the booth. This was going to hurt. It might be cathartic. It might damage them beyond repair. Didn’t matter, Kili had decided - _oh yes, Durin, this was happening._

Fili gathered his courage, held onto it as gently as he could, and studied Kili’s face. It spoke of turmoil and lack of sleep, eyes red-rimmed and shadowed, forehead lined and lips tight.

Those eyes, the right eyes, they weren’t made to hold that much pain. Fili smiled faintly as he considered the Kili who walked into this hole-in-the-wall with him, electrified Fili’s body when their hands brushed. “Hey, this isn't _faux_ dive, this is a _dive_ ,” Kili had said with a smirk, a glimpse of his old humor shining through.

Fili had laughed in response, a real laugh, a laugh that recalled their early friendship, that meant maybe they could make this work. “You’re a long way from home, yuppie boy.” He’d had the presence of mind to recall the reference, and Kili had nudged his shoulder with a grin and a snarky comment about jocks that Fili missed in a surge of hope and need.

But they weren’t here for small talk, and just a beer in Fili knew their conversation would - had to - take a serious turn. He just didn’t think it would go straight to the worst thing he’d ever done. Thought they might lead up to that over a few dates - kind of solidify their relationship before… this. _Idiot. Kili doesn’t half-ass anything._

 

* * *

 

Unsure how the dancers looked like they were swaying through smoke when indoor smoking had been banned for years, Fili watched the motion and flickering lights in a pleasantly buzzed state. His teammates, linebackers like himself but for the giant tackle laughing as he stood head and shoulders above the crowd, had squeezed their bulk amidst the press and looked more than a little buzzed. Fili, head bobbing to the thumping music, raised his cup in salute as one of the idiots motioned toward the beauty who was dancing with him. Judging by the number of looks their muscles were attracting, none would be leaving alone.

Fili appraised the women, consciously choosing his night’s conquest. His eyes stuttered on a tall, dark man, but he shook his head inwardly and moved on. He laughed at two of his buddies competing for attention from a classic blonde like roosters strutting for a hen. He paused on another beautiful woman, one whose almond eyes, full lips, and swaying hips had been expressing clear interest in blond men. That one would be too easy. Pause on a short redhead with gorgeous moves, keeping a tiny space cleared for herself, eyes turned inward. Too much work. Forceful skip over a dark-haired man with killer eyes. Lingering pause on long black hair and warm skin, finally resting on a lithe brunette whose glowing skin invited touching and deep eyes just mysterious enough to be a challenge without a struggle.

Fili lifted his cup for a last drink, but a disturbance in the crowd’s flow caught his eye. A new group pushed its way into the mass of bodies, and his eyes were drawn like a magnet to the beautiful one in the middle, the one whose soulful eyes caught on the boisterous football tackle with a start and then intently swept the crowd.

_Fuck!_ Fili’s mind railed, as his body froze, pissed that Kili would show up here, now, and interrupt his quest for distraction. Fucking Kili, who couldn't keep his attraction under wraps and was introducing discomfort into their formerly easy friendship, and - Fili slammed his drink on the table, cold liquid spilling across his hand. He shook it off as anger at himself flooded his head. _As if any of this is Kili’s fault, you fucking coward._

Fili picked his cup back up and drained the dregs, watching Kili settle into the crowd’s rhythm. He swallowed hard, tried to breathe.

 

Kili moved with the pack of dancers, and Fili couldn't unglue his eyes from Kili’s hips. Dark jeans hugged perfectly and he moved like a snake, and if Fili could look up he was sure he'd find a brilliant smile. But he was pinned by this perfect swirl of body and lights and sound, and if his idiot teammates were less inebriated and horny they wouldn't fail to see the truth on his face, and that finally tore his eyes up along Kili’s perfect face and across the crowd trying to find his brunette again. He gave up in the next instant, though, his lust too focused now, stellar acting abilities twirling away somewhere around Kili’s feet. _May as well go look for them,_ he sighed.

His feet directed him to the bar, though, wondering when his brain had acknowledged he was gay and quit suppressing his lust for Kili. They'd made it through school as best friends with just an occasional drunken awkwardness that they had easily shaken off. Well, Fili had. In his weakest moments, he wondered how much Kili had hidden from him back then. But now Kili was having such a hard time hiding his feelings, and Fili wanted him so bad he felt sick, so here he was with the multitude of others seeking escape. Fili shouldered his way toward the bar, catching his favorite bartender’s eye before he made it all the way. He held up two fingers, she nodded, and the remainder of the crowd parted in unconscious acknowledgement of his social superiority.

Elbows protecting drinks, he snaked his way through the packed dance floor to Kili with half his mind screaming at him to run. He was lost in a forest, mired in mistakes that piled up and blinded him to the right path - so used to his fears that every peek through dark leaves illuminated imagined scorn in the eyes of his teammates, rejection from this impossible dream he had achieved against the odds.

Kili was a dream, too, but not for him and his cowardice. They didn’t see each other much anymore, and rather than making his decision easier, it just set him adrift. Kili may not have been able to pull him onto the right path, but he had anchored him, even if far from the shore.

 

Fili handed a drink - god, they even had the same favorite fucking drink - over bobbing heads to long fingers with an automatic answering smile for Kili’s brilliant one.

Kili raised the cup in thanks before taking a long drink. “I can’t believe they're letting you start, Shorty,” he yelled with no preamble as he slid close enough that Fili could feel his breath on his ear.

The smile absolutely glowed, and Fili couldn't help himself. “I missed you, dickhead.” 

“Yeah? You're the asshole who's been on a tour of the west coast.” 

Fili shrugged, taking a long pull of his drink in a vain attempt to gather his thoughts, but in their flitting from giddy happiness, to comfort, to terror and longing and regret, to abject desire, confusion reigned.

Kili clapped a hand on Fili’s shoulder and drew him into the warm eyes. “Congratulations, man, seriously. Awesome.”

Another smile, before Fili shook off the beam of heat, admiration, and hope - none of which he deserved. “Moved me outside, though.” 

Kili’s smile flickered with concern. “Yeah, but weak side plays to your strengths.” And just like that, the humor was back, Kili’s body pressing close as the crowd shifted. “And you’re fucking _starting_ , man. In the _NFL_. Fucking enough with the sulking.”

And didn't Fili fucking know it. More gulps of his rapidly dwindling gin, swallowing the flash of desire with it. The more he attained, the less he saw Kili, the more lost he was. Yet Kili was right, and he loved playing, still exultant each time he ran onto the field. And he was a decent football player; at least he still knew that.

Fili responded with a light punch to Kili’s shoulder. “I don't ‘sulk’. How have you been, drama queen?”

A brief grin in response, before the light left Kili’s eyes. _Oh no oh no no no._ “I miss you.”

Fili came so close then. Too close to dropping his drink and his inhibitions and holding Kili until he hunted down the lock on his closet door. Eyes wide, his finger twitched as he almost lifted an arm, but something akin to panic rose in Kili’s eyes and recalled to Fili how much damage he'd done, how much better Kili deserved. His finger stilled, arm remained down, flexed with tension.

“Sorry, man, didn't mean to get sappy on you.” Kili’s laugh was forced, and Fili’s stomach curdled at the realization that Kili had misinterpreted Fili’s expression. Kili was still willing to pretend that Fili was straight, for Fili’s sake. And Fili knew, he _knew_ , they both knew the truth, that Fili was a coward, and that Kili would continue to play along, until it destroyed him, for the sake of their friendship. 

“No.” Fili said aloud. No, he was not bringing Kili down with him. “You've always been a sap,” he deadpanned with an exaggerated eye roll. “Hey, I gotta run, okay? Practice early and all you know.”

Fili felt Kili’s disappointment in his own gut and his jaws, and he regretted it and did nothing to assuage it. “Of course,” Kili said, voice flat. “It was good to see you, man.”

“I'll call you next week,” Fili said, lamely, as he backed away from the most beautiful eyes in the world and out alone into the cold.

 

* * *

 

The soldier was missing a leg, but he stood tall. The crowd roared when they walked together onto the football field. Fili knew who deserved the cheers. His life had been defined by a game. He loved it, but he had always wanted something more. 

Fili had forgotten that he rejected the ‘something more’ that Kili offered, that his closet was locked from the inside. He only remembered that Kili wasn’t for him, that he wanted someone he couldn’t have and didn’t deserve. He had to stop hurting Kili, he had to quit chipping away at himself. He needed to do _something_.

He glanced at the vet, at the pride in bearing, his calm face. He saw a path. _This is it._


	2. Chapter 2

“I’m sorry,” Fili said, gluing his eyes on Kili’s uncharacteristically immobile face and holding up a hand. It was a pointless thing to say, but it got his mouth moving. “I made. It was. Fuck.”

Fili ran a hand through his hair and took a drink. He glanced out the dirty window, back to Kili. “I. I was so far in the closet, I forgot there was a door. I should’ve told you. I wish I would’ve told you. ”

Fili sighed in relief at the temporary reprieve as Kili spoke. “I’ve never been angry at you for that. People have to come out in their own time.” Now Kili looked away. “I can’t say it didn’t hurt, but you didn’t do anything wrong.”

And back, eyes hard, ancient oak instead of vibrant chestnut. “You disappeared.” 

Fili didn’t exaggerate. That _was_ the worst memory of his life, after his father dying. _Fucking hell._ “I've asked myself ‘why’ a million times, Kee. Kili.”

Fili put his hand up to signal for another beer before remembering he came here because no one got special treatment. He could barely believe he had come to expect special treatment, but shit, it could come in handy - he couldn't go for a beer now.

“I don't think I consciously thought I'd lose my career if I came out. I suppressed feelings for men as something that just couldn't happen in the world I wanted to belong to.”

A sigh. Mental reminder to hold eyes, even if unfocused now, on Kili. “I can't explain. I had just decided I wasn't going to be gay. But then there was you. It was so easy, like we’d grown up together, and we had so much fun. I felt _good_. Until realizing. Realizing I was- I was- Damn it,” Deep breath. “I finally recognized I was in love with you.” 

He felt sick. “And you know how it was then. It was confusing and it ached and I fucked myself up so bad trying to deny it, trying to live up to your respect without touching you.”

“I told you I’m not mad about that,” Kili snapped.

Fili ran a hand through his hair again. “I’m getting there. I ended up with my mind so twisted. I could see your pain, feel it. I thought the noble thing was to spare you the pain of not returning your feelings. I decided to leave, cut us off.”

Fili’s heart shuddered at Kili’s gasp. Now Kili looked sick. Fili raised a hand toward him, halted. 

“You _decided_ to leave me,” Kili ground out. “It was that easy for you.”

Fili shook his head.That wasn't what he meant. Still going the wrong way, he couldn’t get this right. “No, no. Not easy. I wanted you so fucking badly, I couldn’t see straight. I was so fucking confused. I was a fucking coward, Kili - you know that, you said so. I didn't deserve your love.”

Fili slammed his hand on the table. “I need a fucking beer. You?”

Kili’s eyes were narrow, lips parted slightly. He jerked a nod.

 

Fili returned with a pitcher, frosted mugs, and a resolution to expand his emotional vocabulary past ‘fuck’. He poured for each of them.

Kili took a long drink, closed his eyes as he sighed. “Go on.”

Fili pushed the words out of his tight mouth. “I couldn't come out, and I believed - I don’t know how, okay, but I actually believed - leaving would be best for you.”

Kili rolled his eyes, fingers tapping the table. “Arrogant bastard.”

Fingers spread across his face, Fili shook his head. “Yeah. I guess.” He dropped his hand to his glass, lifted it. “So yeah. I was good, but I wasn't great, not as a pro, and I was _hurting_ you, and I didn't really _get_ it - all the attention I got from fans. I wanted football, but I also wanted something else, and it couldn’t be you-”

“It could’ve been me.”

 _God, yes, it should have been_. “I didn’t believe that, and I was convinced I didn’t deserve your respect.”

“Stupid arrogant bastard.” It would’ve been funny if Kili didn’t look like he was about to puke.

“I worked with the USO for some Veteran’s Day events, and I spent time with soldiers and vets, and that was it. I could make a difference, I could prove myself, I could be a complete person. That was it.”

“That was it.” Kili's usually rich voice was flat. He rubbed his forehead. “You just decide shit and that's it.” He placed his hands flat on the table and seemed to study them, trying to make a decision.

“Kili, please. Don't go.” Fili held his breath.

 _Give me one more chance, Kili._ “I've pictured it,” Fili whispered. “I see you calling and texting and, just wanting to talk, to hang out, nothing big, and getting nothing. And then you would turn to say something and I wasn't there anymore.” Oh, Jesus Christ, Fili’s eyes were tearing up. Melodrama would go over really fucking well right now. 

Kili eyebrows narrowed, face flushed. “I was a fucking wreck,” he spat.

Kili looked away, took a long visible breath, froze Fili in the full force of his wicked glare. “I missed you so badly I could barely breathe, like you'd… like you’d stolen a lung. Along with my fucking heart. Jesus fucking Christ, I actually said that. You ripped out my fucking heart, man.”

Fili’s heart hammered.

“It was like a never-ending panic attack. I was frantic. What had happened? Where you'd gone, why you’d gone, what I’d done wrong, whether you were okay. And I finally tracked you down - I found you just in time, and that was a sign, _hope_ , I was meant to catch you, and I did, and you stopped and you _saw_ me.”

Kili swallowed, eyes shining. “You saw me. For one second, I thought I was waking from a nightmare.”

Nauseated, Fili closed his eyes, shoulders hunched. He imagined jumping across the chasm of time, holding Kili’s hands. Fili would explain. Kili wouldn’t be happy, but he would understand. They would keep in touch. It wouldn’t be easy, but they would do it. They both would be ready when he got back. 

Too late.

Fili opened his eyes, and his regret met the waves of pain rolling off of Kili. He forced words through them. “It was too late for me to back out, and there was nothing I could say to make make it not hurt. But I will _never_ forget the look on your face. 

“I was wrong. So wrong.” Huffed sigh, shake of his head. “I regret- god, regret. There's not a word for it.”

Fili ran a hand down his face. His brilliant monologue sure as hell couldn't change the past, what was he hoping to accomplish here? “I wish I had a good explanation to give you,” he muttered. 

Kili drained his mug. “Thanks for trying.” 

_No._ ”Kili, I’m not that person anymore.”

Kili stood up, and fuck, those eyes - they would leave his life again, and he would be half a person forever, and well. That probably was some measure of justice. And at least he had seen them again. “I am sorry.”

“I'll call you. Later. After I calm down.”

Fili watched him walk away, long legs, strong back, glistening curls. It was like being punched in the gut, and that was a fraction of the beating he'd given Kili.

 

* * *

 

Fili dreamed of soft fingers in his hair, gentle tugs as pieces were separated, twisted, braided. No, he wasn’t in bed- He forced bleary eyes open, tried to focus, he hadn’t meant to fall asleep- He jerked his head off the back of a couch, but some of his hair failed to follow. “Son of a bitch,” he snarled, awake now, hand reaching up to collide with- 

“Oh.”

“Sorry, man.”

Fili rolled languorous eyes to his best friend’s laughing ones. The asshole still had a hold of his hair and was clearly on the verge of laughing. “You don’t look sorry, dickhead.”

“I am, really, I thought you were asleep.” Kili breathed contrition.

“You’re a terrible actor,” Fili grumbled, laying his head back.

Kili’s face morphed from solemn to injured. “Shit, man, that was just mean.”

“Constructive criticism,” Fili sighed theatrically. “You must be familiar with it by now.”

Kili tugged the braid with a snort and let it fall. Fili laughed. “How long was I out?”

“Not long, maybe 15 minutes.”

Fili shook his head, realized the game controller was still in his hands. He set it beside him and stretched. Music and cheers filtered up from the basement game room. Bored with pool and darts and not in the mood for beer pong, a small group had made its way to the living room of the house’s resident lucky bastards whose parents supplied them with each popular console as it was released. 

Apparently bored with even new video games, most of them had left for another party. Fili’s girlfriend rolled her eyes when Fili went upstairs and had probably left then. 

“Shit, I can’t believe I passed out,” Fili muttered, even as his eyes threatened to close again. Science major and football weren’t a great combination. If not for Kili, he may have had to give in to a bullshit degree and hope to get the one he really wanted later. “Why are you still here?”

Fili glanced over as something unfathomable flashed in Kili’s brown eyes. Kili shrugged, the corner of his eyes crinkling. “Can’t leave a pretty thing like you passed out and alone. Someone could take advantage of you.”

“Uh huh. Maybe fondle my hair.”

“Exactly,” Kili nodded, shameless.

“Is Jay downstairs?” Fili smirked as Kili’s blush belied his insistence that he didn’t have a thing for his blond costar in the theater department's latest production.

“Naw, he went to the other party.”

As usual, Fili pushed aside the cauldron of emotions that arose anytime Kili expressed interest in other men and chose Fili over them. “Well, shit. And you stayed here with a fucking loser.”

“I can’t resist fondling your hair.”

Fili stood up, shaking out said hair. “And so the very person I need protection from was the one protecting me. Come on, I’ll walk you over there.”

“Ah, and now _I_ won’t be vulnerable,” Kili said with a mock bow. 

“Get your jacket, jackass,” Fili said as he headed toward the door.

“I’ll be fine.”

“It’s on my way home, Kee.”

 

* * *

 

“You’re a fucking celebrity, Fee.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“The best part is the lurid green uniform. You look like a fucking green lantern.”

“Fuck off, Kili.”

“That could explain why the entire line and the back didn’t see you coming,” Kili mused as they settled into their desks at the back of the lecture hall. He leaned over toward Fili and stage whispered, “Can I see the ring?”

“It’s charging,” Fili whispered back, eliciting a loud snort from Kili.

“Seriously, though, what’s it like?”

“What’s what like?” Fili rolled his eyes as he straightened up.

“Being on ESPN like every. single. hour. The fucking green lantern annihilates the quarterback, causes a fumble, wins the game.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Stop saying that, dickhead, I’m serious,” Kili hissed as the professor entered the front of the room.

Fili sighed. “All right, it was kinda awesome. At first. Now I just wish for a world without 24/7 sports channels.”

Kili nodded as their professor cleared her throat, but something like concern flashed in his eyes.

Fili needed to brace himself for the oncoming flood of incomprehensible formulas. He sighed. “What is it?” he whispered, leaning back toward Kili.

Kili leaned into his space, eyes on the professor. She was shuffling papers on the lectern. “I’m afraid that’s just the beginning.”

“I couldn’t eat lunch for all the autograph seekers,” Fili murmured, “but I figured it would pass.”

Their eyes met. Kili shook his head. He wasn’t teasing anymore. 

And he was right. Fili was good. College football was popular. ESPN had a lot of time to fill. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Fili hissed.

“When you’re ready, Mr. Durin,” the professor said. A hundred pairs of eyes turned in his direction.

_Jesus fucking Christ._

 

* * *

 

Memory. Choice. Humans had both. Yet humans could not choose their memories, Fili groused as he shuffled through his notes for about the fiftieth time in search of his assessment of the third-favorite first round draft pick of the team that got the second pick of the next NFL draft. He had watched the kid work out - when? - day before yesterday, two days ago? He couldn’t even remember his name. Yet he could play back each agonizing detail of every decades-old mistake he had ever made in relation to Kili. 

Fili cringed as a particularly painful one danced in his mind.

He threw the papers on the floor in disgust and immediately regretted it. They probably had been in some sort of order. Fili ran his hands up his face and looked up at the ceiling. He should just give in and use his tablet, but it was so distracting when he was trying to catch each movement on the practice field. A few scribbled notes were all he needed to recall enough to look halfway intelligent on TV… if he could just find the damned things.

He had most of the papers gathered up when his phone buzzed. He dropped them. He dove for his phone. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It probably wasn’t him. It had been more than two weeks - two fucking nerve-wracking weeks - since Kili had shown up unannounced at Fili’s condo, since feeling Kili’s hands for the first time. Fili shivered, pushed the thought aside. _Not him. Two weeks._ He cracked an eye open, thumbed on the screen. He didn’t need another broken phone, so he threw it and the inane text from a coworker at his couch. 

 

It was a cold shower and another painstaking search through his notes later when he finally settled on his couch with take-out and a movie. He sighed as he leaned forward and retrieved his phone from under his ass. He automatically checked for messages and- picked the fucking thing up off the floor so he could read the one from Kili.

_Ask me on a date._

“You fucking dick.”

Fili forced about 15 deep breaths through his constricted chest, dinner set aside as irrelevant, before he could even consider a response. “Ask me on a fucking date. Fucking hell.”

His heart pounded. His pulse raced. He belonged in a fucking romance movie. Type, delete, type. Delete. Type. _Want to go out with me on Friday?_ Send.

Wait, sweat, wait, fidget, wait. _Come on, Kili._ “Come _on_.”

_Okay._

Fili shouted some garbled nonsense of angst, frustration, excitement, anticipation. They’d surely have to meet somewhere, dinner might be too much to start with, he didn’t even know where Kili lived. _Meet for drinks?_

_Sure._

“Okay, okay, okay, think,” Fili muttered. He didn’t think. He just sent a time with the name and address of his favorite bar and crossed his fingers.

_See you there._

“Fucking hell.” He sank back into the couch, eyes unfocused, cradling his palpable relief but keeping hope at arm’s length.

 

* * *

 

His doctors, the best Army and NFL retirement could offer, told him to take it easy, scale back his workouts. “Stay fit, yes, of course, Fili.” “Elliptical, controlled weight machines, have you tried swimming?” “Swimming is a great workout, Durin.” “Forget the free weights, you're killing your brain.” “Running is terrible for your leg, Durin, you'll end your life in a wheelchair.” “What are you going to use those guns for, carrying groceries?” 

They told him his bulk was no longer necessary, useless to a gimpy former athlete. As if that part of him was dead. As if he could just amputate the biggest part of his identity. He had wanted the pain, yes, but he also wanted to be _Fili_ , and no matter what he'd gone through, put other people through, he'd always been a football player, and yes, he always would be.

At least that, even if he wanted something more.

“Fuck swimming, Doc.” The free weights could just kill him and his fucking wheelchair, at least he'd still know himself. 

 

* * *

 

Fili hadn’t given up hope. They had texted. But it had been almost two weeks since the airport conversation. Thinking it like that made it seem like no time at all. Yet he felt every minute of it in the tension that ran from his jaw through his neck and shoulders, in the constriction of his chest, the twist of his stomach. 

Kili finally called.

Fili jerked awake, his sheets tangling limbs as his hand scrabbled around for his phone. Sunlight filtered through his dark bedroom curtains. What time was it? Where was the fucking thing?

His palm finally landed on the damned phone, and it was Kili and oh shit it was Kili and he answered and-

“Kili.”

“Took you long enough.”

His whole body went limp. He couldn’t catch his breath. _Kili._ “You woke me up.”

“Walk me to work.”

Fili shook his head. It swam. “Wh-”

“Get your lazy, pampered ass out of bed and walk me to work.”

“Where _are_ you?”

“Downstairs. Don’t make me late.”

“Be right down,” Fili said, bemused, as he pushed the covers off and forced his eyes all the way open.

 

It was 7:30. Fili hadn’t gotten out of bed that early since he retired. 

“You look like shit,” Kili said as Fili stepped out into the chill air, hands in his pockets.

“Thanks, man,” Fili said. “You woke me up.”

Kili rolled his eyes. “Baby.”

“You look nice,” Fili mumbled, glancing over at Kili as he led them down the street away from Fili’s building. 

Kili glanced over with nod. He did look nice, Fili thought, kind of a sleek business casual. It suited him. Fili kept his hands in his pocket. This early he would have no defense against accidental hand brushes.

They walked in silence for a time. It was nice. Even if it was too fucking early.

“I feel calmer when I’m with you,” Kili said. 

Fili’s head snapped over. 

“Well. Felt. I always did.” Kili shrugged, inhaled. “I think it's coming back.”

Fili didn’t know how to respond, whether he should respond. He kept his eyes fixed on Kili’s profile, barely navigating with peripheral vision.

“You were always where I expected you to be.”

Fili looked down as his heart thudded painfully, absorbed the punch, looked back over. “Until I enlisted.”

“I hated you after that.”

“I know.” Fili shuddered. “It didn’t happen right away, but I ended up hating myself, too.”

Kili sighed, ran a hand through dark hair. They turned onto a busier street, traffic noise overtaking birds calls, footsteps.

“I hated you for a long time, even as I missed you.” Kili looked at his hands, let them fall. “It was horrible.”

Fili’s stomach knotted, his chest constricted. He ran a hand down his face. He sought the perfect words, feared he couldn’t find them. He couldn't find them. Maybe he didn't need them.

“I felt calmer when I was with you, too,” Fili said, felt Kili’s gaze, pressed his eyes closed. Opened them, kept them forward. “When I wasn't-. Suppressing things.”

Fili’s hands fisted in his pocket, the breeze ruffled his hair. They turned down another street. “That was by far the worst thing I've ever done, Kili. It haunts me. Nothing like that will ever happen again.”

“Nothing,” he whispered, looking down again.

Kili inhaled. Fili made himself look over and watch Kili process his feelings, keeping a tight rein on hope. Kili looked at him. The depth of his brown eyes stole Fili’s breath for the millionth time. 

“I want this to work,” Kili stated, as if he'd come to a decision, ended a debate.

The next few steps were a challenge. Fili’s whole body had gone weak. “I do, too.”

Kili’s glass skyscraper turned out to be a 30-minute walk from Fili’s condo. He still didn’t know where Kili lived, but he was grateful for Kili’s spontaneous mind coming up with this undoubtedly indirect route to work.

They moved out of the flow of traffic and looked at each other. Fili could feel his pulse. He wanted to reach out. He didn’t move.

“I’ll call you later,” Kili said.

Fili nodded. Kili walked to the building without looking back. This time it didn’t feel permanent.

They’d had to cut open, drain an abscess. It hurt like fire, and the wound wasn't gone - it probably would, should, never be - but now it wasn't infected and festering. 

“I love you,” Fili whispered, watching Kili disappear into the revolving door.


	3. Chapter 3

“Walk me to work.”

Fili was startled awake a second time by a silky-voiced demand. He scrambled out of bed as if his life depended on it.

They talked about football, they talked about actors, they passed a record store and realized they still liked the same music. They were comfortable with silence. They were almost to Kili’s building. 

“I don’t hate you anymore,” Kili said.

Fili almost laughed. It would’ve been ridiculously inappropriate, but he couldn’t help but find it funny that a statement like that sounded like a declaration of undying love to him now. It was the best thing he could remember hearing in a long time. 

He blinked, inhaled. “I’m glad.”

“That’s the closest to a compliment you’re getting out of me for a while,” Kili said with a glance and a bare hint of a smile, a shadow of the old laughter that used to sit so close to the surface.

“I’ll take it,” Fili said with quirked lips.

“Fili?” Kili said it like they were friends. 

Fili’s heart melted. Searing, healing, cauterizing. He couldn’t help the wide eyes that turned to meet Kili’s. 

“Is it strange that I feel this way, after all that?”

Fili wanted to say ‘of course not,’ which wasn't right, or ‘what way?’, which would've been self-serving. He could see it on Kili’s face. It ached. 

“I kept drifting the wrong way, and you kept pulling me back,” Fili said instead. They navigated through cars blocking a crosswalk. “After all the time, and distance, and... me… we’re still drawn to each other. 

“There’s something to that.”

They moved off the sidewalk, and Kili turned to face him. They looked at each other. Tires screeched, the wind blew, Fili felt like time stopped. 

Kili opened his arms, and Fili closed the gap in an instant, pulled their bodies together. Chests pressed together, arms wrapped tightly around backs, they held each other for a very warm moment. Fili closed his eyes and moved his hand up to Kili’s neck, pressed his mouth on Kili’s shoulder and tried not to think. 

They stepped back at the same time. Kili nodded goodbye. Fili nodded back. Kili turned away and headed for his building. It definitely wasn’t permanent.

Fili felt like- he didn't even know- like landing on a padded ledge after tripping off a cliff. Relief and hope bloomed like living things, offering his mind some space for the other parts of his life.

“I love you,” Fili whispered.

 

* * *

 

Their second date wasn’t a traditional “date”, Fili supposed, but there wasn’t much he’d say ‘no’ to if it meant spending time with Kili. So he was helping Kili unload a UHaul full of furniture and boxes into his new apartment. They had three hours of parking and freight elevator use, so there was a hell of a lot more sweat and bruises than words.

Fili loved it. He loved helping someone move. No one liked helping someone move. _I’ve become such a fucking sap,_ he shook his head as the elevator door ignored their pleas to close. 

Kili gave up on the key and the button and leaned back against the wall. He rolled his eyes up to the ceiling and sighed. “I guess I’ll just let it take its time.”

Fili smirked and, though it ached at this point, he gently set his precarious stack of boxes on the floor and turned the key in the opposite direction. The door closed.

“Well, fuck me,” Kili grumbled. Then he laughed. “Thanks, asshole.”

“Anytime, dipshit.”

Fili gathered his boxes and leaned back. He glanced at Kili and was almost glad for his burden so he didn't have to resist pushing a curl behind Kili's ear. He looked sweaty and tired and as beautiful as always, face still drawn and shadowed but not nearly as starkly as it had been on their first date. 

They celebrated their final load with a hasty beer and pizza and refreshingly light comparison of their respective work. Both thrived under bright lights, Kili still in theaters, but Kili had the “real” job as his main source of income.

It came out of nowhere. Not that Fili hadn't wanted this, of course. He'd dreamed of their first kiss, imagined a hundred scenarios. This hadn’t been one of them. This wasn’t what he wanted. It sure as hell wasn’t what Kili wanted. 

They were out of parking time. They dropped their paper plates in the new trash can at the same time, they moved back to the breakfast bar at the same time, reached for keys at the same time. Hands met on the counter, eyes met, locked.

“I have,” Kili swallowed. “I have to go.”

“Me, too,” Fili murmured.

The sides of their hands still touched. Just that little bit of contact took Fili’s breath away. Kili needed to go. Fili inhaled, moved his hand away.

“No,” Kili whispered, and then his mouth was on Fili’s, and Fili’s hands were in Kili’s hair, and Kili’s tongue was in his mouth. Kili’s hands slid around his back, pressed them together, the kiss so deep, too quickly, eyes closed, their hands all over, and they were gasping, and Fili was dizzy. 

For a long moment, Fili’s mind went blissfully blank, so full of Kili, of home, of this is _it_ that he didn’t question anything. Then Kili was pushing Fili’s t-shirt up, and Fili felt Kili’s hands on his chest for the second time, with his own hands unable to follow, his heart beats painful. Their mouths separated long enough for Kili to pull Fili’s shirt up and off, and then it was all tongue and teeth and harsh breath, and hands in hair, on faces. 

Kili backed Fili up to a wall, and Fili pulled Kili’s head down, and the kiss was hard and messy and too soon but so hot. Fili moaned as Kili’s hands undid Fili’s belt, opened his jeans. With one scalding hand on his hip, Kili grabbed Fili’s erection. Fili couldn’t breathe. Kili broke the kiss with a pull on Fili’s bottom lip, and they both looked down. This wasn’t happening. This was happening. Kili’s hand on him, Fili watching it move. Panting, Kili jerked Fili off. Fili came fast, hard, on Kili’s hand, his clothes, his new floor. Gasping, Fili’s head sank back against the wall. Breath ragged, Kili lifted his head and his black eyes caught Fili’s. Kili immediately looked back down. 

“I’m.” Kili tried to get hold of his breath. 

Fili wanted to sink down to the floor, pull Kili with him, hold on. Kili was pulling away. 

“Kili?” Fili whispered. “Can I- Do you want-?”

“What? No. I’m- Yeah, I’m sorry. Let me get-” And Kili was gone. He found a towel, very gently wiped off Fili, who barely needed it, who could barely handle the touch. In a daze, Fili got himself back together as Kili washed his hands, tried to clean off his jeans and shirt. 

Fili didn’t move until Kili finally looked over at him. “I have to go,” Kili said.

Fili didn’t quite understand why, but Kili sounded so forlorn, like they’d taken a wrong turn. Fili didn’t know what had just happened. _I love you. It doesn’t matter how we do this._ “Okay.”

Fili pushed himself off the wall, wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, and followed Kili’s slumped shoulders into the too-bright hallway. He stopped himself from reaching for Kili’s hand.

Kili was returning the truck, Fili taking a cab home. Kili stopped before getting in. “Thank you for helping.”

“Anytime, man.” Fili tried to keep his tone light.

Kili looked at him, dark eyes so soft. “I’ll call you.”

Fili blinked. He wanted to say something. They had finally kissed. This _meant_ something. Kili had to go. “Soon. Please.”

Kili nodded, shut the door. Fili watched him leave.

 

* * *

 

“Walk me to work.”

Fili smiled. “I’m sleeping.”

“Sleep walk me to work then, lazy ass.”

Fili stretched. “Say please.”

“Get down here.”

Fili hung up before he laughed. Today he was a morning person.

 

They walked in silence until Kili told Fili to buy him a coffee. Fili raised an eyebrow, and Kili shrugged. “I didn’t have time to make any this morning.”

“You're demanding,” Fili said.

“You like it.”

Fili laughed again and did as he was told. Their fingers touched as he handed it over. 

The sidewalk got more crowded, and Fili felt Kili’s glance, his hesitation. Kili took a breath and said it. “I wasn’t ready for that.”

Fili kept his eyes forward. “I know.” He paused. He made himself say it. “It wasn’t how I wanted it to happen either.”

Kili gave him a longer look, and Fili turned his head to meet it. “I am sorry,” Kili said, voice and eyes repentant.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Fili shrugged. “Things happen.”

“Things happen,” Kili muttered. Then he huffed a rueful laugh. “Yeah. Your eyes happen.”

“ _My_ eyes? You’re the one with the irresistible eyes, fucker.”

Kili stopped. Fili waited for him to catch up. “What?” Fili asked.

“You like my eyes,” Kili smiled.

Fili stopped. Kili had to come back for him. They faced each other. “What’s wrong?” Kili asked, eyebrows raised.

Fili ran a hand through his hair, looked at the blue sky, failed to notice people nudging him as they moved around him like a rock in a stream. Fili took a long, deep breath.

“Yeah, Kili.” Fili was pretty sure his voice wasn’t shaking. His hands probably were. “I like your eyes.”

 

* * *

 

“The first guy I kissed looked like you,” Fili mused, finger tracing trails of condensation in circles on the beat-up wooden table. 

He looked up with a rueful grin and his heart hitched as he caught the glimmer in those beautiful brown eyes, the right eyes. They were back in his dive bar and veering closer to the right path. “Well, not as good as you,” he winked.

Kili rolled his eyes as he returned the grin. “Uh huh.”

“I’m serious,” Fili shrugged. “No one does. But yeah, he had dark hair and eyes, about same height, persistent 5 o'clock shadow.”

Fili paused, eyes distant. “It was a mistake.” 

He glanced at Kili - the tension around Kili’s eyes and mouth, his forehead, was melting, the dark circles fading. He looked interested, if not exactly comfortable. “Not the kiss, that was nice, but dating people who looked like you. Just…” He grimaced. “Wrong.”

Fili looked down, stared at the table. “I was searching so desperately for your eyes,” he murmured, “for how I felt with you, and that was so fucking stupid.”

“It was pretty fucking stupid that you didn't just find _me_ , dipshit.”

Fili huffed a laugh, smiled into dancing eyes, even as he felt the familiar squeeze in his chest. Relief at the epithet, dismay at the question. Another scene he'd replayed a thousand times.

“I did. Jackass.” He had tried to keep his voice light. It sounded choked.

Kili’s eyebrows furrowed in question.

“Broadway,” Fili answered.

Kili deflated, slumped back, head dropped. He shook his head, looked at his palms. “Not too late,” he murmured.

Fili couldn't breathe. _Oh. No._ Finally Kili looked back up, emanating sorrow. For Fili. After all of this, Kili had sympathy left for Fili.

“That wouldn’t have been too late, Fee.”

 

* * *

 

Forehead and left hand pressed against cool tiles, Fili focused on the hot water cascading down his back and dripping off the fingers of his right hand, beating against the dark tiled floor. It washed away the liquor he was sure was sweating from every pore - he had made short work of the bottle Kili had brought him, an internal disinfection - and it soothed tonight’s ache in his head and leg. He tried to imagine the shower washing away the past. He’d lost himself, he’d lost Kili, and there was no end to the list of mistakes he had made. Apparently he didn’t even know about all of them. He was so close. They were so close. He had to focus on the right path. 

He couldn’t forgive. Maybe he could forget.

 

* * *

 

“I'm going to forgive you, Fili,” Kili whispered after their fourth date, which followed their seventh morning walk, second phone conversation, and one accidental FaceTime dial that turned into a half-serious argument about the things Fili had just said on air about Kili’s favorite football player. Yes, Fili was counting. 

Fili looked down at Kili’s shoes, street light reflecting off raindrops. They were outside Kili’s building, a tree mostly protecting them from a persistent drizzle. 

He looked at Kili’s face, their eyes caught and held. Kili stepped into his space, put his hands on Fili’s chest. Fili breath caught, and he told himself not to hyperventilate. He let himself get lost in the depth of Kili’s eyes. He could breathe.

“You will have to forgive yourself,” Kili continued.

“I can't.” Fili held up a hand to stall Kili’s protest. Kili pressed his lips together. 

“I'm not talking about everything,” Fili said. “I can't forgive how I left.”

Fili managed a half smile, because it was obvious Kili was having such a hard time staying quiet. “I've thought about this a lot. I can't forgive that, but- Wait, Kili, please let me finish.” 

Kili’s eyes flashed as a car passed, hands restless.

“I think I can let it go,” Fili said.

After a moment, Kili nodded. “All right.”

“All right?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Fili breathed. He watched the rain on concrete for a moment. He ran a hand through his hair.

Fili brought his eyes back to Kili’s, which hadn't left his. He remembered the first time he saw them. The most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen. He had recognized that fact immediately, though he hadn’t known how they would always call to him. They gazed at each other, the rain a soft background tap interspersed with wet tires. 

Fili brought a hand up near Kili’s face, gave him time to say no. He didn't say no. Kili’s eyes went even softer, and Fili touched Kili’s cheek with his palm. Kili leaned into it. 

“Kili.”

Fili ran his thumb across Kili's cheekbone, slid the hand behind Kili’s neck. His skin, hair felt so soft. Fili’s heart pounded.

Almost as if they were too heavy, Kili raised his hands to Fili’s face, placed them as reverently as Fili had. They leaned into each other, eyes shifting to lips. Fili’s other hand came to Kili's face, touched stubble.

Kili was breathing hard, their lips brushed, Kili gasped, Fili pressed his eyes closed. “Kili. I will never hurt you again,” Fili murmured.

“Got it out of your system?” Kili responded, a hint of a smile in a voice that was as soft as his eyes had been.

Fili huffed in chagrin, relief, looked down. Kili lifted Fili’s face back up. Fili could feel Kili’s breath. He shivered. 

“Yeah,” Fili breathed, “it’s gone.” His lips quirked as he moved toward Kili’s grin. 

Their lips touched, eyes closed. They sighed.

Fili pressed his mouth to Kili’s, their lips parted and connected, Fili caught Kili’s bottom lip in his, Kili exhaled, kissed Fili’s top lip. Noses settled next to each other, and Fili inhaled wet night air and Kili’s faint aftershave.

They pulled each other closer, pressure on lips increasing, and Kili’s were so soft and warm and perfect, of course, and Fili felt like he could do this forever. Kili’s warm palms cradled Fili’s jaw, slid up his cheeks, fingers curled behind his ears. 

A soft moan escaped Fili’s mouth as Kili’s tongue traced his lips. Their tongues touched. Kili made the most beautiful sound of need that Fili had ever heard, and they tilted their heads, let the kiss deepen. Kili’s mouth tasted sweet, his breathing was shallow.

Fili felt his heart thud, and then he just felt Kili. 

Eventually, slowly, they pulled back. Fili slid his hands down Kili’s back, rested them on Kili’s waist. Kili’s hands were hot on Fili’s shoulders. They just looked at each other. Fili felt still, like a part of him that had been constantly seeking something had just found it. 

“That was nice,” Kili whispered.

“Nice. Yeah.”

Fili took a breath. Everything was so quiet. He murmured, “I don’t believe in bullshit like soulmates, but I believe we are good for each other.”

Kili flashed his beautiful, bright smile. “I believe you’re right.”

“I like the sound of that,” Fili whispered with an answering grin.

They kissed again. Reality far surpassed every fantasy Fili had ever allowed. _We really are good together,_ Fili thought before he let go again.

 

* * *

 

Fili waited in the stadium tunnel with his alma mater’s football team stomping his feet, still bobbing his head to the last raucous song played in the locker room. The chill autumn breeze brought with it the cacophony of 90,000 people, tinny roars of the announcer, competing bands. A huge hand slammed into his shoulder, and he punched the connected shoulder in return. 

He smiled as his heart beat faster. Football. Today just felt like football. He was an honored homecoming guest, here at Kili’s behest. Here _with_ Kili. Fucking hell, he would be on a football field again with Kili and his mother watching him from the stands, and he was _with Kili_. 

The world softened to a dull roar as the opposing team was announced. Fili bounced on his toes as the crowd met their rival with loud boos and a smattering for clapping. God, he had missed this. He would never play again, but maybe it was finally time to find his way into a coaching job. 

That agreeable thought melted into the yells surrounding him. Someone said, “Ready, Durin?” 

“Hell, yeah, man.”

And then the announcer’s voice was booming and their band kicked up again and they were running onto the green field, under brilliant blue sky and sun, into wind and roars and screams.

And it may have been late, but he was almost there. Home.


End file.
